


A Man For All Seasons

by ebenflo



Category: Actor RPF, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies) RPF, Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Apocalypse, Colin Farrell is super protective, Colin and Ezra in a zombie apocalypse, Credence Barebone Deserves Better, Drabbles, Ezra Miller is a precious human bean, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot Collection, Original Percival Graves is Bad at Feelings, Protective Credence Barebone, Romance, baby Percival Graves, colezra, de-aged Percival Graves, stripper credence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-17 05:51:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9308228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebenflo/pseuds/ebenflo
Summary: A series of drabbles between Credence Barebone/Percival Graves and Colin Farrell/Ezra Miller.Canon-compliant, canon-divergent, AU and everything inbetween. AKA all those ideas floating around in my head that wouldn't go away (but also didn't fit into anything else I was writing either).Requests accepted.MOST RECENT UPDATE: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves (final installment of the de-aged Graves mini series)





	1. One More Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> I neither know nor have I ever even met either of the two beautiful men described in these FICTIONAL stories.  
> Likewise everything you recognise from JKR's world belongs to her.  
> The characters and people within have merely been borrowed for entertainment and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Colin/Ezra  
> Rating: T
> 
> Summary:  
> Zombie Apocalypse!AU  
> It's hard to believe that less than six weeks ago they were both living the high rolling life, and the hardest decision was which script to choose next. Now, they live day to day, where each breath they take might be their last. Colin thinks if it weren't for the bundle of long limbs and unruly hair in his arms, he'd have gone mad right from the beginning.

A scream pierces the night and Colin startles, instinctively reaching for his shotgun with one hand and tightening his grip on Ezra with the other.  
Ezra, who wakes with a frown. He looks to Colin for guidance and it damn-well breaks his heart because he knows when it comes down to it, if that awful day really comes, there won't be a damn thing more he can do to save their souls. He pats his left jean pocket.

"Colin?"

There are distant gunshots, yelling, and a now too-familiar groaning. Colin squeezes his eyes shut. He can see them still, their friends. Limbs torn from torso. Their entrails decorating the footpath. Everything had been such a blur, they'd barely made it out alive.

"Colin, look at me." Ezra's fingers are cool on his cheek and Colin refocuses, really looks at Ezra. Because in this fucked up world there's only one thing that's keeping him from losing his mind and his will to live, and it's this crazy kid. This crazy, beautiful, wonderful kid who out of everyone - man or woman - that he could have picked, had chosen Colin. Colin often thought that if the world hadn't gone to shit he would have married him in a heartbeat.

Colin focuses on those pouty, pink lips, still just as inviting now as the first time he kissed them, even if they were dry and chapped. He doesn't think about the gash that had replaced his sister's mouth, a spray of red fanning out. Or the mangled jaw (once human) that had clamped around her slender throat.  
Colin places his hands on Ezra's chest, feeling a so-very-alive heart pounding beneath the thin jersey. He doesn't think about the way his hands shook the first time he cleaved one of them clean through their undead skull with a carving knife.

"We'll be together, won't we?" Ezra asks softly.

Colin thinks of the two bullets saved inside his pocket.

"Yes," he pecks Ezra ever so gently on the lips. "Always. Until the very end."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment whether these drabbles should all be kept as CHAPTERS within the same WORK or whether they should be posted as separate WORKS within a SERIES.


	2. Into My Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Credence/Graves  
> Rating: T
> 
> Summary:  
> Credence and Graves knew each other before Grindelwald ruined everything.  
> Credence isn't destroyed by MACUSA but ends up working for them.  
> He is there the day they find original!Percival Graves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title stolen shamelessly from Nick Cave song.  
> Actual drabble inspired by London Grammar's "Rooting For You" which is supremely beautiful and should be listened to on repeat.

A large crowd gathers in the main foyer. Credence looks up from his work, brow creasing slightly even as people hurry past him talking excitedly. Next to join them is the younger Goldstein - Tina's sister. She rushes past before pausing, whirling around to backtrack to his desk. 

"The Director," she exclaims breathily, "Credence, they found him."

Credence stands so suddenly his chair clatters to the floor. The look she gives him is so lovely and full of hope. His heart pounds. He's heard rumours of course of her abilities, but she's never let on whether she can hear his thoughts or not. He's pretty sure the emotion is splashed so nakedly across his face now that you didn't have to be a Legilimens to know his every wish.

The crowd barely moves as they push their way through. Credence feels his palms sweat and his stomach churn.

"All right, all right, give the man some air," the President's voice booms across the expansive space, crackling with magic.

He spots Graves easily across the hall, flanked by Aurors. His trousers have faded from black to grey and have the starchy, stiff appearance of fabric soaked with blood - or worse. Credence gulps. His hair is overgrown and matted, the silver more prominent then ever before. The right side of his face is bruised, an ugly gash splayed across his cheekbone.

He is the most beautiful sight Credence has ever seen. His eyes widen as he meets Credence's gaze.

"Credence," Percival mutters, before collapsing to his knees.

Credence lets out a yelp and with utter disregard for what anyone in the vicinity - or anyone at all really - thinks, he rushes forward, feet practially flying as he launches himself towards Graves.

"I'm here, I'm here," he sobs, kneeling by Graves and flinging his arms around Graves' neck. Because he's here, he's actually HERE. Whole and warm and in his arms. 

"Gently," Tina warns him, though her voice is kind. "Sweetheart, go gentle."

"Who has time for gentle?" Graves teases croakily, voice hoarse with disuse.

Credence snorts, tears and laughter intermingling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurt/comfort is basically the whole Credence/Graves aesthetic.


	3. Holy Grail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Credence/Graves  
> Rating: T
> 
> Summary:  
> Graves hurts, Credence heals. Continuation from the previous drabble because I love the idea of nurturing!Credence and wounded!Graves.

Credence trails the rag over Graves' shoulders, trying desperately to keep his eyes above board. He's at a very real risk of losing himself, and Graves - to this point - has never shown him anything but a fatherly regard.

He traces the glistening suds over a ragged scar on Graves' left collarbone, whose end tails off toward his throat.

" _Sectumsempra_ ," Graves mutters, his head lolling back slightly at Credence's ministrations.

Credence swallows thickly, the cartilage in this throat bobbing as he dips the rag down into the swirling water and brings it up again, this time touching a red and puckered area on top of Graves' deltoid.

" _Cruciatus_ ," Graves whispers, "please don't stop."

But the water is beginning to cool and Credence knows this sacred time is coming to an end. He soaks the rag and lifts it once more, touching a tiny jagged area just above where he thinks Graves' heart sits. Graves says nothing.

Credence waits.

Graves is silent, and the silence stretches between them like a dark and lonely cavern.

But, finally, Credence thinks he understands. That some hurts are too deep, some things scar but never heal. He slides down from his wooden stool and wordlessly places his trembling lips on the sodden skin, relishing in Graves' very soft cry of surprise. He stills. Gradually, he feels Graves muscles unburden themselves beneath his touch, and gently, Graves holds him there against his breast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thrive off feedback. If you enjoyed any of these drabbles please leave some love.


	4. Follow The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Credence/Graves  
> Rating: T
> 
> Summary:  
> Courtesan!AU  
> Graves is undercover, investigating rumours of untapped magic within the confines of a No-Maj whorehouse.  
> When he is introduced to the brothel's prize jewel, Graves is instantly enraptured. But could the beguiling creature before him be the source of the dark magic they have been hunting all along?

"So...what are your proclivities, Mister...."

"Farrell."

"Very well, Mister Farrell," Mary-Lou Barebone eyed him with the keen interest of a savvy businesswoman, taking in his expensive watch and tailored suit. Graves wished Tina had dressed him a little less ostentatiously but she had assured him that if he was going to pull off the look of a No-Maj highroller then he needed to look the part. 

A faint moan arose from somewhere deep in the confines of the whorehouse and Graves fought the desire to squirm in his seat. He was no innocent, but the very notion of him even coming to such a place as this had roiled his stomach. Still, if it was what it took to find the Obscurus...

"What do you desire? We have male, female, athletic, strong-boned..." Barebone listed off her wares like a butcher selling meat. Graves gritted his teeth.

"I have a particular look in mind. Male, of age...but younger. Pale, tall." It felt wrong even just saying it, breaking down the boy to a mere descriptive list.

Barebone smirked.

"You are a man of taste, Mister Farrell. He is our prized possession after all."

Graves remained silent, urging himself not to do or say anything that might raise suspicion. He was averse to violence against women but this particular one was sorely testing him.

"Be warned though, he does not come cheap. But then again you don't get to his age, unsullied and so well preserved, for cheap."

"I can pay," Graves said firmly, settling a heavy bag of gold coins between them. Barebone eyed the small velvet sack greedily.

"A man of taste and of wealth. Very well, please wait here."

Stuffing the sack into the confines of her tight jacket she turned and hurried away down a dark corridor. Graves frowned and stared at his shoes, wondering just what he had gotten himself into, and stayed just that way until his companion returned, this time accompanied by a slender young man dressed simply in well-fitted black trousers and a loose, soft white shirt.

"This gentleman has paid generously for you. You are to stay the night with him and pleasure him."

Graves looked up. The boy was exquisite. Dark lashes fanning out over high cheekbones, skin the colour of milky alabaster. His lips, rose-pink, trembled slightly in what Graves could only assume was fear - of him. How could this creature possibly harbour what they were looking for? 

"How old are you?" Graves asked curiously.

"He is of age," Mary-Lou snapped, seemingly annoyed that Graves should question his purchase.

"I'm asking you, boy," Graves said softly. There was something ugly and dark threatening to rear its head in his gut, a familiar heat pooling in his belly, which Graves fought hard to ignore.

"I- I'm twenty-one," Credence whispered, staring at the ground miserably.

"And untouched by any," Mary-Lou Barebone announced proudly, as if his virtue were a bargaining chip. The deal was done, Graves thought bitterly, she had no reason to keep going on about it.

"And what is your name?" Graves asked. 

"Credence....Credence Barebone."

There was no way this boy, this lovely sweet boy, was related by blood to that horrible woman. Which could only mean she named her whores after herself. As if she could sink no lower; such a despicable act was a mockery of the very idea of a family.

Obscurial or not, Graves decided, he was not going to leave Credence here in this place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was awfully tempting to continue. If you would like to see a continuation of any of these chapters please leave a message in the comments.


	5. Honey I Shrunk The Director

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Graves & Credence, but there's no romance for obvious reasons.  
> Rating: T
> 
> Summary:  
> De-aged!Graves  
> Newt & Co. get more than they bargained for when Percival Graves is hit with an errant jinx that temporarily de-ages him. What will they do when Credence is the only one Graves will allow to care for him? OOC everyone but it's super cute so I hope you forgive me.

"He's so cute!"

"Queenie, stop calling the Director cute!"

"But look at him Teenie, he's what three, four?"

"Hey little guy, do you like sweets?"

"Jacob! Not before dinner time!"

"What do we feed him?"

"Here, what about this?"

"Newt! That's Ocamy-gruel. You can't give Percy mashed up bugs."

"Since when did we call him Percy?"

Overwhelmed by all the attention from the adults looming over him, tiny Percival Graves promptly bursts into tears. Big, fat cartoonish tears that squirt out his little dark eyes and roll down his plump cheeks. Queenie suppresses a massive squeal at how cute this is.

"Now you've done it, you lot," Credence mutters, looking up from the book in his lap, 'The Adult Beginner's Guide To Magic: A Ten Step Program'. "You had to make him cry didn't you?"

At the sound of Credence's voice Percival's wailing gradually subsides to a pathetic little sob, before it finally halts with a hiccup. It takes a moment for Credence to notice that everyone is staring at him now.

"What?"

"Honey, I think he likes you," Queenie says softly, not wanting to upset the tike again.

"You can't be serious," Credence scoffs, unable however to stop the vivid flush of scarlet rising up his neck towards his face.

"Here," Tina steps forward, holding her arms out for Percival - and the wailing recommences.

The crimson tide on Credence's cheeks finally reaches peak level and he slams his book shut and leaps to his feet.

"Oh Merlin, fine. Mister- Percival. Percy." The little man regards him with a very serious look on his face, ruddy with the effort of crying. "Percy come here."

Queenie lets out a joyous squeak as Percival toddles rapidly over to Credence, half colliding with his legs which he wraps his arms tightly around.  
With a big sigh Credence hoists Percival up in his arms, letting him bury his face in his neck. 

"You guys owe me. Big time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that any idea which warrants more than 2 or 3 parts will be moved out of this collection and become its own work. That also goes for one-shots which are longer than a standard drabble, they will also be posted as standalones.


	6. One More Dawn - Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Colin/Ezra  
> Rating: T
> 
> Summary:  
> Zombie Apocalypse!AU
> 
> Colin wakes and Ezra isn't there.

Early morning sun filters in through the broken blinds, weak and watered down like milky tea. Colin has always taken his black. Reality teases and taunts at the edges of his sleep-muddled mind but just for a moment Colin lets himself hang there in the somewhere-between. If he doesn't think too hard, this could be just another day. Perhaps it's some time between ten and eleven. Neither of them have pressing engagements. They could make love, lazy and sloppy, the way Ezra likes it. Maybe they could wander downtown after, in search of a late breakfast, Ezra feigning shock at Colin's public displays of affection. The light in Colin's eyes grow brighter and he frowns. There is no lazy lovemaking now. There is now downtown. Time to rise and face survival.

"Ezra?"

The crumpled sheets next to him on the floor are cold, no sign that another had laid in them recently. The balled up blankets used as a makeshift pillow are shoved to the side, Ezra's baseball bat abandoned too.

"Ezra?" Panic creeps into his voice, raising its pitch. Cold sweat beads Colin's brow and his eyes dilate, the movie in his mind playing a horror-reel of a dozen terrible ways Ezra could have met his end. The Flesh-eaters. The still-human ravagers who roam the streets with a bloodlust all of their own. A broken floor and a sudden drop, Ezra's body mangled at the bottom.

"Ezra!" He tears from the room, not bothering to put on his battered boots or even grab the locked and loaded handgun he usually keeps so near. Nothing now but his harsh breathing and the thundering of his heart. He flings open all the doors on the top floor of the abandoned townhouse they had taken refuge in last night after a gruelling near-miss at a gas station half a mile down the road. Colin had spent hours poring over every inch of Ezra's flesh to make sure there were no bites.

Colin pounds down the stairs, frantic now, whirling to a stop in the dusty kitchen. 

And he's there. He's there he's there he's there. Haloed with sunlight, coming in from the backyard as if the world isn't in the midst of a complete free-fall and as if Colin hasn't started shaking apart at the edges.

"They grew beets," Ezra says softly, holding up the fruits of his labours by their stalks.

"Beets?"

"Yes. I thought I'd make some breakfast."

Colin crosses the floor in two, three large strides and crushes Ezra in his arms, barely perceptive of the fact that maybe he's squeezing him just a little too hard. The beets fall from Ezra's grip and Colin can feel confusion and sympathy in the way Ezra gently raises his hands and smoothes gentle strokes over his back. But it's enough to do it and Colin doesn't even bother to try to stop himself from weeping, openly, falling to his knees and pressing his face against Ezra's belly.

"Shhh...Cole I'm okay. I'm okay." Ezra's fingers comb through his oily tresses, pressing and rubbing his scalp.

This is how it is now. Some days Colin gives the care and some days he receives. Some days he chases the monsters away and some days...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the feels. Second part to the courtesan!AU is coming soon, promise.
> 
> Seriously guys, leave some love if you want to see more. Our inspiration is fuelled by your good feedback.


	7. Honey I Shrunk The Director - Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Graves & Credence, but there's no romance for obvious reasons.  
> Rating: T
> 
> Summary:  
> De-aged!Graves  
> Newt & Co. try their best to parent Percival Graves, aged three. Bedtime is more difficult than getting an Erumpent in a suitcase. For one, he won't do it without those hideous scorpion pins which he insists on wearing in his hair. Two, he must absolutely have Credence Barebone tuck him in.

"No."

Credence is over this. After a life time of abuse, confused feelings, explosive magical powers and being shredded by a bunch of over-enthusiastic Aurors, he's pretty sure he's earned the right to a quiet life with his books and remedial spells, maybe somewhere in the mid-west. Percival Graves had promised him such a life, and if Credence had wildly fantasised about riding into the sunset with said man then well, he wasn't to be blamed.

The promise had not come with any fine print that one day Percival Graves might be a grouchy, clingy three-year old who sullenly followed Credence around with large solemn eyes and graspy little hands. Especially not one who refused to go to bed unless his specific requirements were met.

"Percy it's nine o'clock, you need to sleep," Newt reasons, convincing precisely no one. They've been at this for two hours. Percy shows no signs of budging, fiddling with those ridiculous scorpion pins in his hair (the ones Queenie forever worries might poke his eyes out in his sleep).

"Sweetheart give me those pins," Queenie croons, reaching for his little head, sighing as he twists away from her.

"No."

"Percy we're seeing Seraphina in the morning. You like Sera right?"

"No."

"We can stop by the bakery!"

"No."

Credence has been trying to ignore their dismal efforts since the beginning of the evening but this is getting pathetic.

"Fuck this," Credence snaps. His confidence has been building but even so the sharp words make everyone reel with surprise.

"You can't swear in front of the kid!" Kowalski argues, looking over at his main squeeze Queenie to see if she agrees.

"Give it up you lot," Credence scowls, smoothing out his trousers. "He hates Seraphina. You gave him too much sugar - yes Kowalski I mean you - and those stupid pins aren't going any where. Percival-" defiant stance gone, Percival looks meekly up at him. "You are going to bed."

He holds out his hand and Tina watches agape as Percival trots over obediently, pressing his little face against Credence's trouser leg.

"Story?" Percival whispers reverently, allowing Credence to pick him up smoothly and balance him on his hip like a seasoned pro. The heavy weight feels homely, comforting, and Credence forgives himself for being suckered into this domesticity. He swallows in vain to clear the lump that's lodged itself in his throat.

"Yes, story."


	8. Honey I Shrunk The Director - Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Graves & Credence, but there's no romance for obvious reasons.  
> Rating: T
> 
> Summary:  
> De-aged!Graves  
> During story time a number of truths about Graves' past come to light, and Credence realises that maybe they aren't so different after all.

"Together, they set off back to the wizard’s house, the pot’s footstep muffled at last. But from that day forward, the wizard helped the villagers like his father before him, lest the pot cast off its slipper, and begin to hop once more."

Credence finishes with a flourish, clapping the heavy book closed. Beside him, Graves - Percy - is silent, looking down at his little hands and fiddling with a thread he has managed to pull loose from his blanket, itself a hand-me-down from Tina.

"Percy? What's the matter?"

It is incredible how quickly their relationship shifted, the protected now the protector. Credence thinks his heart might burst with the amount of affection it seems to hold.

Percy looks up at him with wide eyes.

"Do you have a dad Cre?"

"Oh...no, I don't. Percy, my parents died a long time ago," Credence murmurs, placing a hand on the back of Percy's neck. The boy seems to take this as an invitation and leans into Credence's touch. Credence's heart flutters. 

"So you're all alone?"

Credence feels himself smile at the innocent question, wondering where this is going.

"I have you, don't I?" He surprises himself with the soft confession. He will have Percival for as long as the other is willing. Even if they never find the cure or reversal, or whatever it is they need to make Percival the right age again. If this is the only way he can be with Graves then Credence is willing to pour his heart and soul into making it work - tantrums, bathtimes and bedtime stories included.

"Do you?" The look Graves gives him is absolutely heart-breaking.

"Yes of course. And Miss Tina and Queenie...and Newt, he's cool right?"

"Not as cool as you," Percy says definitively, curling his delicate fingers in the soft material of Credence's cardigan. "You won't leave me will you?"

"Kid they'd have to pry my cold, dead hands from you," Credence jokes, wincing at the horrified look Percy throws him. "I'm joking. Oh, sweet boy, I was joking."

"My mom said she'd never leave me and then she died," Percy says matter-of-fact, yawning widely. His lids are half-mast and Credence knows it won't be long before sleep claims the boy.

"Wh- who did you live with?" Credence can't help but ask. Graves - the adult version - had never gone into his past, always avoiding those questions when they arose. It seems the younger incarnation is far more willing to divulge.

"My grandma," Percy says, resting his head on Credence's chest and playing with the buttons there. "But she..."

"Percy?"

This time when Percy looks up at Credence his eyes are shining with tears.

"I can't tell you."

"Baby boy you can tell me anything." Credence shifts them, adjusting their position so Percy is now somewhat sitting on his lap. He levels the youngster with a serious look of concern. "Percy what is it?"

"She hits me," Percy whispers, then ducks his head as if he expects retribution for his confession. "She says I'll never be a good wizard like my daddy..."

"Oh."

"She says my daddy killed himself because I was a wicked spiteful boy."

Credence lets his eyes close and shudders, memories of his own near past echoing in his ears. He feels his blood surge in anger and a vein along his jaw starts throbbing next to his clenched teeth.

"She hits you?"

"Yes but I deserve it," Percival stutters, sounding so helplessly small and broken. Credence fights the desire to find the woman and wring her neck but he also realises that in reality the old bag is probably already dead in this timeline. 

"Oh baby you didn't deserve it, you didn't" Credence cooes, drawing Graves closer into the circle of his arms. "I will never, ever let anyone treat you that way again, okay? I will always be there for you."

"Will you be my daddy?"

Credence sighs. The whole situation has gone beyond messed and this question is really just the icing on the cake. But Percival is staring at him with such hope and wonder that Credence can't help but smile, pressing a tender kiss to Percy's forehead.


	9. Care of Magical Creatures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Colin/Ezra  
> Rating: T
> 
> Summary:  
> Colin dotes on a sick Ezra.

Colin was late getting to Ezra's that night, but traffic was a bitch and he was late leaving the studio after an eleven hour shoot. In his hands he grasped his Apology tightly - a crisp plastic bag of Thai takeout, a bouquet of fresh lilies and a new book for them to read together. His Boy liked to be read to. Colin smiled. He liked thinking of Ezra as his boy.

The apartment was dark. Bad sign. Ezra liked the lights and candles burning bright, music wirelessly streaming through the apartment - usually an indie band Colin was far too old and far too uncool to have heard of (at least by Colin's own account, Ezra was far more forgiving on him). At first Colin thought that the boy might have gone out with friends - Colin wouldn't have blamed him. It was the third time in a row Colin had arrived later than their agreed time, whether it was Ezra's place or his. Ezra was a patient, kind lover but Colin fretted how long it would be before his little lamb fled for greener pastures.

"Ez?"

"In here, Cole." Ezra's voice was soft and croaky, drifting down the hallway all ghost-like from his room at the back of the unit.

"Baby?" Colin followed the direction of Ezra's voice, shucking his shoes and jacket along the way, placing the food on the kitchen counter.

Ezra looked absolutely miserable. He was curled up in a pile of blankets on the window sill, drowning in one of Colin's saggy old sweaters that was fraying at the edges. Colin wanted to throw the thing out but for some reason his Boy insisted upon hanging on to it. Nostalgia, Ezra insisted, winning his way as he ever did when it came to Colin. Colin had to smile. He indulged the boy, so what.

"Don't turn the lights on, they hurt my eyes," Ezra explained tiredly, rubbing his eyes hard enough to make Colin wince.

"Oh little one," Colin sighed. "What happened, how long have you been sick?"

"I was out with Emma and I started getting faint," Ezra explained, before quickly adding; "it's not Emma's fault. I should have worn my gloves iceskating."

Colin tutted in a fond, fatherly way, placing the lilies on the bedside table and tossing the book next to them.

"Come here," he whispered, gathering Ezra's shivering, slender frame up in his arms, blanekts and all. "We need to get you to bed."

"Oh do we?" Ezra's lips quirked into a teasing smirk against Colin's neck where his face was tucked. Colin chuckled, a low rumbling noise from deep in his chest. Even sick his Boy was insatiable.

"To _sleep,_ " Colin admonished, though he kept his voice light and gentle. "Ezra you need to rest."

He tucked the blankets around Ezra and ran his fingers through Ezra's uncombed locks. When he made a move to leave Ezra made a little disgruntled noise that sounded pathetically adorable to Colin's ears.

"Please stay with me," Ezra begged, curling his fingers around Colin's bicep. Colin sighed. "I'll behave, I promise," Ezra quickly added, his voice scratchy.

"It isn't you I don't trust," Colin grumbled, placing a chaste kiss on the feverish skin of Ezra's forehead.

"Stay outside the covers," Ezra bargained. "Please Cole. I want you to read to me."

What could he say, Colin thought, his little Boy drove a hard bargain. Gently groaning with suppressed want Colin eased himself on to the bed, in the space created as Ezra shuffled over. He reached for the book with one hand and nestled Ezra against him with the other. Ezra let out a contented little chirrup as he nuzzled into Colin's side.

"What did you bring?" Ezra croaked, craning his head to read the title. "Jack Kerouac?"

"I know you love the modern classics," Colin murmured fondly, burying his face in the soft silky curls on top of Ezra's head. "Now hush little love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whether you're already a follower or new to this series, please leave some love :-)


	10. Honey I Shrunk The Director - Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Graves & Credence, but there's no romance for obvious reasons.  
> Rating: T
> 
> Summary:  
> De-aged!Graves  
> A mysterious fever takes hold of Percy. The last of the de-aged Graves series.

Percival Graves gets sick on a Tuesday at five-fifteen in the afternoon. The lights are low and the lamps are lit when he utters a tiny "Oh!" and he goes quite floppy in Credence's arms.

"Percy? Percy!"

Panic quickly takes hold of Credence, who has never felt more helpless in his life. Not even when his Ma was whipping him with his own belt, or when he gave up food for days on end so the younger ones at the Home could eat. No, this is a different kind of helplessness altogether. In his arms, Percy is limp and deathly pale, a cool blue creeping already at the corners of his mouth. He doesn't respond to voice or stimulation, his skin oddly hot to the touch.

"Newt!" Credence hollers, hoping through divine - or magic - intervention the man can hear him.

It isn't long before several people gather at the foot of the bed, too many hands eager to help pressing in. Credence steps back reluctantly.

"Air, they need air," Newt says reasonably and Credence relents Percy to his healing arms because really what else can he do. Newt presses his ear to Percy's tiny chest, fingers pressing at his wrists. Tina has materialised a cool compress, dabbing a bit uselessly at the boy's feverish brow.

Credence lingers in the background, arms crossed, hands pressing at his own elbows.

"What can I do?" he asks the room, unsurprised when nobody turns to answer him. "Please give me something to do," he states, a bit louder this time.

Queenie turns, sympathetic. 

"Oh honey, he needs a Healer."

"What about Newt?"

"I'm a Zoologist," Newt placates. He too seems to be at a loss, cradling the child in his arms. "I- Credence we must hurry."

-

"There's nothing I can do," the Healer, a portly woman of fifty-four years, sternly reports. She pushes the small gold spectacles back up her nose. "I'm very sorry, but this is not something I've seen before. It's like his system is rejecting all of my diagnostic charms. It won't even accept the cooling charm. I've tried everything."

"Then try harder," Credence snaps, snatching his elbow away when Tina tries to reach out to him. "You're supposed to be the best Institute on the East Coast."

"We're Witches," the Healer admonishes. "We do spells, not miracles. All I can suggest is you spend what time you have left with your son instead."

Credence feels his shoulders slump, the fight gone from him. He doesn't even bother to correct the Healer's incorrect assumption that Graves is his son. Suddenly he wishes he could go back to being small and fragile, hiding away from the world, long lean bird bones folded into the warm embrace of Graves' arms in a dank alleyway. He wishes that he didn't have to be the strong one for the two of them. Mostly, Credence just wishes for Graves to come back to him, and he lets out a single, loud sob, hand fisting at his side.

"Oh, honey, you be with your Mister Graves," Queenie says, encouraging him into a chair beside Percy's small, prone body, tucked beneath crisp hospital sheets. 

"We-we'll be outside. Waiting. For you. Both of you." Newt was never good with words and he isn't any good now, stammering and unsure as Tina wraps an arm around him and leads them away.

"We're here if you need us," Queenie reminds him, carding her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, gentle and motherly. Credence leans into her touch but she's gone too quickly, leaving just him and Graves.

Graves was always small since the transformation but with the sickness taking hold of him he looks more vulnerable than ever. Credence sucks in a gulp of air before exhaling shakily, summoning the courage to take Graves' little hand between the two his own.

"Wake up," he whispers uselessly. The ward remains silent except for the ticking of a clock above Graves' bed. Instead of the usual digits showing time its face displays the prognosis of the patient in the bed below: WELL-UNWELL-WORSE-DYING-RECOVERING-UNKNOWN. Credence is dismayed to see the dial firmly sits to the far right. It seems even magic can't save them now.

"Please, Percival," he continues, not caring if the boy can or can't hear him. "We- I- I need you."

The boy doesn't budge. His shallow breathing continues at a maddeningly even pace. His fragile chest rises and falls and Credence counts each and every breath. Seized by some insanity, Credence lifts himself out the rickety hospital chair and eases himself next to Graves. He traces the little eyebrows with his fingertips, grazing the pert button nose with his thumb.

"You were always the strong one. A saviour. You saved me," Credence confesses without fear or shame. He regrets never saying any of this when he had the chance and now it seems too late, but the words come rushing out of him anyway.

"You know I loved you, when you were....when you were you. All angry-eyebrows and stern gruffness." Credence smiles at a memory. "I used to think 'how? how is it possible to love someone so much that you would give up everything just for them to look at you the same way?' It wasn't just that you saved me. You saved everyone around you, it was in your nature." Credence swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he places his cool hand on Percival's hot forehead.

"And then you changed. You were no longer my knight in shining armour. You were suddenly this...this kid. And I knew I had to be strong. For you. For us. And I realised that maybe it wasn't the same type of love...but I still loved you. Wanted to protect you from everything. And now it seems like I failed at even that."

Credence suddenly realises how fast the tears are falling and the words get stuck in his throat, so instead Credence settles for pulling Percy towards himself, playing the role of the big spoon and holding the limp boy tightly against his chest.

"Please," Credence murmurs, offering a silent prayer towards any Gods that might be listening. "Please, come back to me Percy."

-

Credence falls asleep with Percy in his arms, but his sleep is broken and restless, disturbed with dreams of winged serpents giving chase and children crying in the dark. He tosses and turns fretfully, trying not to jostle Percy, but it's the early hours before he falls into dreamless slumber, exhausted and worn out. The first thing Credence notices on waking is how hot and stifling the little hospital bed has become. And how crowded. His feet are tangled up with a pair of legs, muscular and hairy. Credence's eyes shoot wide open. His arms are wrapped around tight planes of muscle, his hand now splayed against a soft smattering of chest hair. He barely has time to let out a shocked gasp before he is faced with Percival Graves turning in the circle of his arms, blinking owlishly at him.

Credence recoils away as though struck and finds himself tumbling ass-end first off the bed, meeting the wooden floor with a painful thump.

"Credence?"

Graves peers over the edge of the bed. He sounds tired and weathered...and old. Credence can barely breathe for the laughter. Old! There is no mistaking the crinkled brow or the silver temples. The five o'clock shadow or the freckles on his shoulders. Oh. Credence blushes freely, drinking in the sight of the man before him.

"Mister Graves," he sighs.

"Credence why are you on the floor?"

Credence lets out a barking laugh and practically mauls the man before regaining some sort of composure.

"I - you - I...you were different. For a long time," Credence realises that he is rather butchering this explanation. "You were a kid."

"You read me stories," Graves says flatly, refusing to look away from Credence's face. Credence gulps and feels his ears burning. "Credence. I remember everything."

Credence feels his whole face burning now. Everything. It's a lot to take in. He remembers confessing a lot of things. For goodness sakes, he bathed the man on more than one occasion. He ducks his head, small again, until Graves places a crooked finger under his chin and forces Credence to tilt his face and look up. Graves' eyes are like two dark pools, unfathomable, endless. Credence feels himself drowning.

"You loved me," Graves states, and it isn't arrogant or bragging, or teasing. He's stating a fact and it's one that Credence now knows to be true.

"Yes," Credence murmurs in agreement.

"You love me still." This time, it comes out like a question, and Graves falters in a way that Credence has never seen before, at least not in his adult form.

"Yes," Credence affirms, and hopes that his kiss will be answer enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this mini-series, or any of the other standalones in this collection, please tap that kudos button or leave a comment :)


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